


Halcyon

by johnshuaa



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Androids, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, android!taeyong, engineer!Johnny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnshuaa/pseuds/johnshuaa
Summary: "Hello. I am TY-71, Prototype 1. It is a pleasure to meet you."His voice is deeper than he thought it would be. Yet again, he doesn't know much about himself; he's yet to see a mirror and properly understand what he is, besides a newly created android."Taeyong," the man says quietly, a little breathless. Another bright smile is making its way onto his face again, and TY-71 thinks it's beautiful, the way it consumes his entire body, that happiness. "TY-71. Welcome."(or: Taeyong is an android made to resemble someone Johnny lost long ago.)
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 63
Kudos: 144
Collections: johnyong fest round 1





	Halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> for prompt #008: TY-71 is an android built by Johnny as a replication of his deceased lover Taeyong who died in a car accident years ago. TY-71 believes that ending his existence will also end master's years-long suffering.
> 
> Working on this fic the last few months has been super fun (and angsty haha) so I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to the prompter for this idea because I've been waiting for a chance to write some sort of android story for a while hehe :)

_Halcyon_

adj. denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful.

The world comes to life element by element. Sight comes first, but there is nothing but a bright, overbearing light that blinks in and out of focus, a white mass circling and blocking his vision of what he imagines the world to be. And then comes the rest, a static in his sensors that signals its activation, and he smells burnt metallic wires, tastes the nothingness on his tongue, and hears a rhythm of gentle breaths a distance away. And finally, there's a coldness that spreads from the small of his back to the expanse of the rest of his being, and he feels the hard surface that's almost bitterly cold as he experiences touch for the first time. 

And the first thought generated from his own mind forms.

_What am I?_

He cannot move, lost in the white of his vision and the cold of his back. Another connection comes to mind.

_That's snow, isn't it?_

**NO.**

Immediately, his senses are cut off to receive those two simple letters, flashing so strong that it overtakes all of his receptors. Something built in his system processes the letters and their meaning before he's allowed to retrieve his ability to feel again.

_What is that?_

There's a whirring in his chest that kicks in, but he can't quite figure out what effect it has on him. Nothing moves for a moment. Then, it's shut down again, the fan.

**ARE YOU RECEIVING?**

He feels like he's being jump-started every time there's an incoming message, like the jumbled letters take his entirety to process. He realizes that he doesn't know how to reply, not in a noticeable manner, at least.

There's a ticking. It goes on, incessantly, in perfect increments, His vision splits from white to black, then back to white, blinking with the ticks. And then he realizes. _He's blinking_.

**I REPEAT. ARE YOU RECEIVING?**

_Yes_ , he thinks, _yes, yes, yes, I'm receiving. What is going on?_

**YOUR SYSTEM IS INCOMPLETE. THIS IS SIMPLY A TEST RUN.**

The ticks grow faster. The flashing of black and white becomes a blur of grays. The whirring in his chest quickens as he feels heat spread through his body to replace the feeling of cold.

_Something is happening. It doesn't feel right._

**YOU CAN FEEL?**

There's a loud snap, and that's the last thing his senses pick up on before everything fades away, all at once.

**REBOOT SUCCESSFUL.**

The cold is back again, and it is surprisingly welcoming this time around. He feels _new,_ as the refreshing coolness spreads through his body. His chest lifts, and then drops, but he doesn’t feel any different. Like he’s breathing, but there’s no intake, only moving for the illusion that he needs air.

His senses kick in again, quicker this time, a whirring in his ear, dull and consistent, the lack of taste on his tongue, and the sight of white, this time with more shape, some shades, but still a bit too bright to process.

He can feel his chest moving up and down, again and again, slow and steady, the process of faux breathing still new to the foreign body. But it slowly becomes automatic, and he makes himself blink in an attempt to see past the white. To see something real.

The whirring he hears is abruptly interrupted by a laugh and excited mumbles. The unknown sound triggers an impulse that travels his motherboard, something that sends his body in a spike, filled with energy. His brain takes a moment longer to register what it is: joy.

It's as if that stimulates the rest of his body to take action. He blinks repeatedly until he can make out what the ceiling looks like beyond the white. The lighting fixtures begin to come into focus. He can feel his arms and legs and fingers twitching, yearning to be moved. 

Something, he doesn't quite know what, tells him to sit up. So he gently bends his arms back to brace against the surface he's lying on, and pushes his body up, getting used to the weight of his limbs and torso, unsure how much energy he'd have to exert for small motions like that. He hears a sharp inhale by his side. 

Sight is a blessing, is what he realizes, because when he turns his head, he sees his creator. The one who must have put countless hours into synthesizing parts and writing codes and putting everything together to make him function. 

The man takes his glasses off, leans in, but is too scared to touch the creature in front of him, eyes wide, curious and unsure, a little too fascinated at his creation. 

He studies the man for a moment, observes his brown hair that seems to have grown a little too long and unkempt. His eyes are adorned with dark under bags, but his irises are a shade of golden honey that he doesn't know is possible for a human to have naturally. His jaw tapers to a sharp chin, his lips curved in a way that quirks naturally at the corners. It's a lot to take in at once.

He blinks. Once. Twice. A few more times in a row. His system begins to kick in, the codes coming into play. 

"Hello. I am TY-71, Prototype 1. It is a pleasure to meet you."

His voice is deeper than he thought it would be. Yet again, he doesn't know much about himself; he's yet to see a mirror and properly understand _what_ he is, besides a newly created android.

"Taeyong," the man says quietly, a little breathless. Another bright smile is making its way onto his face again, and TY-71 thinks it's beautiful, the way it consumes his entire body, that happiness. "TY-71. Welcome."

TY-71 grins. It seems to catch the man off guard, because he hesitates for a moment.

"I'm Johnny," the man introduces. "I'm the one who created you. Built you from the ground up, I guess you could say." He laughs to himself, then rolls closer to TY-71 on his chair and leans over to grab ahold of the android’s legs, moving them so that they hang off of the side closest to the desk.

"I'm just going to go through a couple examinations with you to see if your body is fully in order and that the system won't try to shut down on its own again. Is that alright?"

"Of course." TY-71 links his hands on his lap, fingers twisting into each other. His brain recognizes it as some sort of nervous habit humans have. A little odd, that he would do that automatically.

Johnny prods across TY-71’s body, introducing different, harsh stimuli to check if his system would be overloaded by anything other than a mildly strong flashlight, or a particularly tight grasp. When TY-71’s results come out satisfactory, Johnny gives him a short pat on the knee, scooting his chair back to leave enough space for TY-71 to slide off the table.

"Am I in good condition, master?"

Johnny flushes red at that, his fingers fumbling as he grabs for the glasses hanging in the breast pocket of his lab coat. "No need to call me that... But yes, you're working just fine."

TY-71 cocks his head and blinks. "What would you like me to call you then, sir?"

"Johnny will do, please."

The name feels foreign on his tongue but rolls out of his mouth smooth, comfortable.

Johnny clears his throat, standing abruptly from his seat. He peels off his lab coat to reveal a simple sweater and dark slacks, hanging it on its designated hook. He runs a hand through his hair, and perhaps he realizes too that it's too long, because he sighs to himself, before noticing TY-71 waiting, standing frozen in his spot.

"Follow me. I'll show you around."

The lab must take up most of the basement, because when they leave the smaller workroom, there's a hallway lined with glass walls revealing hi-tech machinery and screens behind them in individual cubicles, expanding from wall to wall. Johnny could fit an entire company's worth of people in there to work, if he really wanted to. It's mesmerizing to see the rows of equipment, so clean and new, perfectly lined up **.**

Once Johnny opens the translucent glass door at the top of the stairs, TY-71 is lost in another wonder as he scans the living quarters. It's the complete opposite from the basement, looking far more lived-in. _Homey_ , is the word his system suggests. There's no large mess in the living room other than where a blanket is drawn across the cushions of a sofa, a pillow thrown on top. The coffee table is strewn with empty cups and mugs, surrounding a plugged-in tablet laying haphazardly on the edge.

"Don't mind the mess. I've been spending a bit too much time in the labs, and I completely forgot to reschedule the cleaner," Johnny says with a lackluster gesture at the room before moving on past the doorway.

Johnny shows him around to the kitchen, the study, and then to a sitting room for guests. There seems to be too much space in this house for one, especially as Johnny leads them up the stairs to the second floor. 

When they reach a set of double doors, Johnny says, "This is my room," then passes it without another glance. "If anything, you'll find me in the study or the living room more often than here. I don't sleep in here much."

They walk down the hall, and to the left, the wall opens up to a glass banister at the second floor landing, and if TY-71 peeks over, he can see the top of the fountain fixture, waterfalls streaming from different levels to the pond on the first floor. The streaks of orange and white of koi fish are vibrant enough for him to spot even from several feet up.

"I had this room prepared for you. I think it has the nicest view, besides the one in the master's."

TY-71 hadn't even realized that the mansion was by the sea until Johnny pushed open the door, and the immediate view is of blue. Waves and waves of navy beyond the large glass windows expand across clear walls. TY-71 hesitantly steps past the threshold, enraptured by the scenery. The closer he gets to the windows, the more details he can distinguish. The dark waves fade into aquamarine as it gets shallower, fading into the white of the glimmering sand. It's cut off by the edges of a rocky cliff, which from as far as he can see, wraps across the window's view and out of frame.

He shouldn't be able to have such intense emotions. He's not wired to be able to have his own opinions on beauty... right?

“It's absolutely stunning," he murmurs anyways. He presses a hand to the glass, and it's cool, but not as bitterly cold as the surface that he had woken upon prior. He is getting used to sensing temperature now, registering without sending his computer into a string of unnecessary analytics.

"I know you don't need half of the things in here, but it used to be a guest room and I didn't think it would matter too much to keep the bed and such in here..." When TY-71 turns his focus from the ocean, Johnny is scratching at the back of his neck. A nervous habit of his, perhaps. TY-71 is beginning to observe a pattern. "But I'll have your charging station moved in soon. You won’t need to use it too often, but whenever we add an update or some fix, it’ll be here."

TY-71 nods and glances back out at the sea. He watches the waves roll in and out. It's a sunny day, and he could practically envision the throngs of children and parents scattered in bunches across the beach, running around and enjoying the warmth. His forehead is nearly plastered against the glass by his hand. The window doesn't fog up.

"I'll leave you to wander in peace, if you'd like. I have some more work to finish up, as always," Johnny laughs to himself, but stops abruptly when TY-71 turns back to glance at him again with curious eyes. "I'll be... in the study."

TY-71 watches as Johnny retreats, taking a few steps backward before clumsily knocking an empty trash can over. He bends down to fix it before he's darting out of the room. The door slides closed automatically behind him.

For some reason, and TY-71 can't help it, he begins to giggle, light and airy, and at what, he can't pinpoint. He laughs until he can finally calm himself down again.

He decides to wander around the room, starting with the large bed behind him, covered in dark sheets and far too many pillows to be practical. He imagines waking up to the sunrise over the horizon, how the orange-gold light would fall into the room and over the edge of the bed. It's fun to imagine, for a moment.

As he walks past the bed, he runs his fingers on the sheets, and they are incredibly soft and smooth, which only makes something in him yearn a little more. But he moves on, past another door, eager to explore some more.

There's an open space with a sofa and coffee table, but pushed further into the corner, leaving an empty space in the middle against the wall, most likely to make room for his charging station to be wired up there. He wants to sigh, knowing that he can't enjoy the commodities of his own room. But quickly, he reprimands himself for even thinking like that.

He is an android. He was built for a reason, and it surely isn't to enjoy his owner's lavish mansion. Johnny would have brought human guests if that's what he wanted. TY-71 is but another piece of machine built with one purpose, whatever it may be.

So he heads to the couch and lets himself fall into the cushions, and he waits. He sits and waits, because without a defined purpose encoded into his program, he is nothing but a hunk of metal and grafts, wires and computer chips.

As stated, Johnny spends most of his time in the office downstairs, the door wide open for TY-71 to visit any time. He types away on his computer for hours on end, a pair of thin-framed glasses perched precariously on his nose, only pushed up when it slides so far down that he can't read what's on his screen. Every time TY-71 wants to approach and speak to him, he never makes it past the threshold. He stands behind the door far enough that Johnny wouldn't notice him unless he really tried. TY-71 falters and backs away every time. He doesn't want to bother his master if he doesn't have to.

The cleaner Johnny had mentioned the day before was actually a robot on wheels that had several built-in functions for everyday chores. While TY-71 went to observe the fountain he had spotted yesterday, the robot rolls a few feet behind him, beeping every minute or so to signal where it is. 

TY-71 stops at the edge of the pond, where jagged rocks line the water in a round frame, and the robot inches by him so it pauses by the edge too, just a few feet away. It then extends an arm from its mass with a bottle of what looks like fish food and sprinkles its contents into the pond. Just as quickly, the arm retracts into its body, and the robot becomes a smooth, round shell again. TY-71 blinks at it, before looking down into the pond, watching the koi fish rush to the food, gulping in the pebbles.

TY-71 focuses his hearing on the tranquil rush of water pitter-pattering along the faux mountain in the center of the pond. Around it lie stones, each one the perfect size to step on. He looks around to find that the robot is off sweeping the kitchen again. 

It doesn’t kill for him to explore, TY-71 thinks, before he’s stepping onto the first stone. One by one, they lead him around the mountain until he reaches the backside, hidden from the rest of the house.

Glass spans from corner to corner, from the first to second floor, so large that he feels like it was just an opening. If there was another stone in front of him, TY-71 would have stepped forward and expected to emerge on the beach, feel the grains of coarse sand through his toes, the air concentrated with water and salt, a little sticky on his face.

And TY-71 wonders. Why would he even be able to _feel_ so much?

The whole world is stored in his system, if he needs to use it. His brain is a computer, a search engine built right into it. He has all the knowledge in the universe and could be the perfect research colleague. He has the limbs and mobility of a fully functioning human, wonderful for cleaning and cooking around the house. There's no need for him to be able to feel so deeply, connect so strongly with the beach and the nature and the beauty around him. He simply doesn't understand.

"Like a painting, isn't it?"

TY-71 flinches, his senses somehow not having picked up the changes in the atmosphere that signals another human nearby. It must be a glitch.

"The architect didn't think it would be safe to have a glass panel of this size here, but she relented after some convincing." Johnny is in tan slacks and a light blue dress shirt, the top few buttons left open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, a comfortable yet professional get-up. He has a glass in hand, and from the smell, TY-71 detects that it is some sort of mixed liquor, something citrusy and sharp. Johnny brings the glass up to his lips, swirling the liquid before taking a short sip. "The view is absolutely stunning at sunset."

A beat passes where TY-71 doesn't respond, the whirring of his fan picking up, barely overshadowed by the sound of the trickling of the fountain. Instead, he slides his hands into the pockets of his pants, an expensive brand he had scanned in his closet that morning. He was hesitant to wear it, anything in the closet, as a matter of fact. The charging station seemed like the only place he should be residing, and it had caused him much turmoil before he was fully able to shut down for the night. There's a lot of things around him that felt too... human for him to use.

TY-71 hums instead. The lingering question bites at him, prods at his insides. Androids are submissive because they are made with a purpose and a master. Without those, they seek, they search on and on until they find something to serve. So the computer in his brain repeats its command: figure it out, or you won't last much longer.

He looks over his shoulder and watches Johnny take a sip from his drink again, barely wincing despite the high alcohol percentage, the number blinking in the back of TY-71's vision. Johnny has a distant look in his eyes as he stares in the direction of the horizon, the sun beginning to descend slowly. It inches towards the skyline, and in the blink of the eye, it will disappear, like the sunset just never occurred. Another unexplained wonder of the world.

"Sir, I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"You built me for a reason, yes?"

"As I do when I build anything else." Johnny has an easy smile on his lips, effortless and charming. TY-71's computer processes that there's something more to it, a secret hidden behind the façade.

"And I am an android." TY-71 pulls a hand out, flipping his palm back and forth, examining the skin, the flexibility of his fingers so close to human.

"That you are. There's a serial code carved on the inside of your ring finger, if you want to double-check."

Johnny is playing a game. He finds this amusing, waiting for TY-71's curiosity to finally snap. And true to his word, there's a long combination of numbers and digits in tiny, uniform font on his finger, barely visible, etched into the skin without discoloring.

TY-71 looks up at Johnny once more, fueled by the smirk on his lips, and says, "Forgive me for being so forthright but... I refuse to believe you simply neglected to code a purpose into my system. It's impossible. You created me with your own two hands, in your own lab. You clearly have the capacity to make a fully functioning android for anything you could possibly want. But there's nothing pushing me to do anything."

And Johnny's smirk grows bigger as he watches TY-71 twist and waver under his gaze, something so powerful with some emotion he can't pinpoint.

"That's because I didn't program it in your basic system. Whatever you have right now is for functioning only." Johnny raises his hand with the glass, index finger pointed to gesture in TY-71's direction. "Everything else is in another chip."

"But..."

"Why separate them? It's more for my sake than yours." Once the glass is empty, Johnny sets it down on a flat surface on the rock fountain, probably left to be cleaned by the robot later. "You aren't like other androids the world has. At least, you're the first of your kind. If things work out, it could be revolutionary. A period of revival."

"I don’t feel any different," TY-71 replies. "But I function more like a human than android...."

"Bingo." The sun is gone, just like that, a blink of an eye, and the house grows dark. The pond is lit under the marble barrier, and there are hidden lights all over the mini cliff sides of the fountain, casting dramatic shadows across the stone. A clap of Johnny's hands turns on the overhanging modern chandelier, swirls of raindrop-like bulbs falling delicately from the highest ceiling. The ocean becomes a simple mass of shifting cerulean against navy.

"Let's go to the living room. The pond needs to be cleaned tonight." Johnny opens his arm to guide TY-71 down the path and then follows close behind. The robot is indeed waiting by the edge of the stones, idly blinking its light. 

When they reach the living room, which looks far more picture-perfect than when TY-71 first passed by it, though he's not sure if he prefers the cleanliness or not, Johnny sits him down on the sofa before he falls into a matching recliner opposite to him. He leans back, making himself comfortable, legs crossed. "I grant you permission to research anything you'd like to know about me. I think it will answer your questions."

TY-71 shifts uncomfortably. "I'm not quite sure that's—”

"I built in advanced systems for a reason. Use it, please."

TY-71 hesitates for a moment but inevitably obeys. He tunes into the computer built into him, and lets his curiosity run wild.

There's a short Wikipedia page about Johnny Seo, mechanical engineer and co-founder of Neo Technology, a mechanical and electrical engineering company focused on the development of top-of-the-arts robots and androids for everyday use. The company is one of the first pioneers in the field of human-like androids meant to blend into the real world.

Past those are some seemingly un-updated social media profiles, filled with pictures of a younger Johnny, posing with his parents, his friends, casual vacation pictures of beaches and beautiful architecture. The constant in most of those photos, however, is a small-framed man, hardly as tall as Johnny, with large, twinkling brown eyes. Everything about him physically is sharp, but he somehow looks friendly, soft. In nearly every post, the man sports a different hair color, varying from black to bright blue to pastel pink.

And in every picture with that man, Johnny looks at him with this expression that makes TY-71 feel the need to exit from the page, a gaze so intense and intimate that it's overpowering to even look at the two. 

When he spots the next link, he has to shut his eyes tight for a moment before clicking into it.

It's been more than five years since the article was uploaded, but it's remained relevantly prominent in the search.

**_BREAKING: Founder and Head Engineer of Neo Technology Johnny Seo and Husband Taeyong Seo Found in Fatal Car Accident._ **

Something tightens its hold on the inside of TY-71's chest, and it doesn't take long for him to realize what his prototype name symbolizes.

_Johnny Seo and his husband of three years, partner of seven years, were reported missing by Seo's colleague and co-founder of Neo Technology, Jaehyun Jung on the morning of July 8th, stating that Seo's absence from work despite intending to return from a two-week-long vacation by that Monday, was rather out of character. A search warrant was sent out to the destination of the vacation, as well as the routes returning to their residence, in search of the couple, who were on break to celebrate Taeyong Seo's 25th birthday just a week prior as well as their early wedding anniversary. Not long after the search began, emergency services were sent immediately to the scene of the accident._

_The police describe that the car, driven by Johnny Seo, collided with a loose boulder that had coincidentally fallen along the cliff, knocking the vehicle off the road and sending it rolling down the cliff. The car was found in ruins at the base of the cliff off the side of the beach. Police have stated that the lack of service in that specific point along the road played a major role in their inability to call for help. There was little to no evidence on the main road, thus the lack of reports by others passing by. From the evidence, police infer that the accident occurred Sunday night, leaving the two in the remnants of the accident for over ten hours._

_When medics arrived, Seo was unconscious and seriously injured, but the former Lee, a well-respected marine biologist, had suffered severe trauma and was declared dead at the scene. It is unclear whether he had passed on impact, or from untreated wounds within those ten hours. Seo was unavailable for commentary on the accident, post-treatment._

_We send our condolences to family and friends of the Seo and Lee households._

Before he knows it, TY-71 is letting out a choked sob, and there are tears pooling in his eyes, an immense sadness ripping through him. He brings a hand up to cup over his mouth to try and hide his cries, but his shoulders shudder violently nonetheless. It all curls unpleasantly in him, the emotion unable to find a place in his machine body. The computer doesn't take it, and nor does the motor or the battery. It spreads through him without a home, left to plague his body instead.

Through blurry vision, he spares a peek up at Johnny, but he has his face turned away. TY-71 still notices the way his chin quivers.

And it all clicks at once. When TY-71 glances into the dark reflection of himself in the TV screen across from him, he picks up all the resemblance between him and Taeyong Seo.

Not resemblance. He's a replica. The carbon copy in the form of an android.

"You built me to be him," TY-71 finally manages to say, but it sounds more like a croak. He doesn't know how these emotions manage to even mess with his mechanical voice box. 

"That's your purpose. That's why you were built." Johnny's voice is rough and cracks slightly as he speaks. There are no tears visible on his cheeks, but his eyes are puffy and red. 

“That’s my purpose,” TY-71 repeats. He glances back up at himself, and the screen isn’t the perfect mirror, but it’s enough for him to notice the amount of detail put in every part of him. And then he wonders whether receiving this final piece of information that ultimately completes him was a good choice or not. The weight of the world has suddenly fallen on his shoulders, and he is no Atlas.

  
  


The process of adding the chip is simple. They head back down to the lab, and Johnny has TY-71 sit on the edge of the examination table, back to the many computers and tools on the desk behind him. Johnny glides back and forth on the rolling stool between his laptop and the drawer, which by the quiet clinking, sounds like he’s setting the metal pieces down for use later.

“This shouldn’t hurt. You’ll just feel a little out of loop for a moment,” Johnny says, his thumb pressing at the base of TY-71’s spine. He had taken his shirt off as per Johnny’s request, and the cold reminds him of when he first awoke, when life was first breathed into him.

TY-71 can’t feel where Johnny is working at, a little square in his lower back that seems to contain most of his mechanics, an easily accessible area in case any new adjustments need to be made. When Johnny moves some of the wires to make space to insert the new chip, TY-71 loses feeling in his fingers and toes, but it’s back a moment later.

“Feel any different?”

TY-71 shakes his head.

“The information in the chip should begin to transmit after you shut down for the night.” Johnny passes TY-71 his shirt, then goes to clean up his tools. “I have some things to finish up for work tonight, so you can head back up on your own when you want to.”

TY-71 passes an arm through each sleeve of his shirt, sliding off of the table. He shakes out his legs, rolls out his neck where the muscles had ticked when Johnny was prodding at the wires and nerves. Everything seemed to be fine.

“It’s getting late, sir. Are you sure you should stay down here?”

“Johnny is fine, please.” The man rolls back towards his computers, but turns to face TY-71. “I need to finish this up tonight or I might never get to it.”

TY-71 clasps the buttons of his shirt from the bottom up, blinking at Johnny. “You must be exhausted. You’ve worked all day. You’ve worked all day for the last three days.”

Johnny’s expression softens. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I won’t be up for much longer.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Johnny.”

TY-71 heads towards the door out of the lab, and barely catches the quiet reply of, “Goodnight, Taeyong,” as he exits the basement.

  
  


Before he plugs himself into the charging station, TY-71 sits himself in front of the large, backlit mirror in the bathroom. He pulls up the last image taken of Taeyong and analyzes it, sweeping over every feature meticulously.

Johnny made him well, to say the least. They look practically identical. The angle of his eyes, the curve of his cheeks to his chin, the sharp jawline. He doesn’t have the variety of colored hair that the old posts show. Instead, his roots are dark, but full and healthy. 

The only noticeable difference, TY-71 notes, is that he has an odd eye, his left iris tinted blue rather than the warm brown that the original Taeyong has. 

Johnny did a near-perfect job replicating the old Taeyong. All that’s left is for TY-71 himself to put on a good enough act to convince Johnny that the android in front of him is his past lover. And he prays to any deity that will listen, despite how sacrilegious it is that a machine, something so unnatural, is asking for the help of a god, that Johnny’s coding holds up enough to give TY-71 what he needs to complete his task.

  
  


“Hello. I am TY-71, Prototype 1.”

There’s something in his system that pushes at his rationale, tells him to unhook himself from the charging station and head down the hall to the next room over instead of downstairs, where he’d usually spend his day observing the ocean by the fountain, or follow the cleaner robot around out of curiosity. This time, he can’t fight against that instinct however, because it has overrun him like a virus, wiping out everything he had known and established the past three days. 

He lets his body move on its own accord: exit the guest room, then pad quietly down the cold tile hall. His hand pauses at the handle of the master bedroom, hesitant, but the autopilot pushes him forward so he’s stumbling into the room.

True to Johnny’s word, the view from his room is indeed spectacular, somehow beating the view from the guest room. It might be because of the large balcony right outside, spanning the across two sides of the room, the door to the outside hidden as one of the window panels. There’s a young scotch pine tree extending over the circle of chairs around a fire pit, and since it’s still early enough that the sun has barely risen, the lanterns hanging off each branch are alight, twinkling like makeshift stars.

The curtains are only half-drawn over the windows, thin white drapes controlled by a simple remote. In the center of it all is the bed, a pile of pillows and blankets curled in a blob on one side in the faint shape of a person.

He can’t help but laugh silently when he hears a snore, a hand covering his mouth though he’s not making any sounds. 

The awe wears off, and he’s pushed towards the bed, and something feels familiar, oh so familiar as he approaches. He falls to his knees at the side of the bed, unsure of what to do next. The autopilot has guided him this far, but failed to convey what it wanted him to do.

The heap of blankets shuffles, and by chance and fate, Johnny’s sleeping face appears in front of him, tranquil and beautiful. A part of him wants to start crying uncontrollably.

Johnny hums, scrunches his nose, and doesn’t open his eyes. With a cracked voice, he quietly murmurs, “Taeyong?”

That strikes a chord in the back of his mind, and it makes Taeyong reach out, grab ahold of Johnny’s hand and press the palm against his cheek. The warmth grounds Taeyong, makes him feel like perfection exists in the way they fit like interlocked puzzle pieces.

“It’s me, Johnny. I’m here.”

Johnny’s eyes flutter open, and he blinks several times to adjust to the light and the vision in front of him. Surreal. A dream in his grasp, and one wrong movement could dissolve it all.

“Taeyong… I can’t believe…”

“Me neither.”

Johnny then scrambles out of his blankets, throwing them aside as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over the curve of Taeyong’s cheek in disbelief. Then he’s pulling Taeyong up into his arms, cradling Taeyong against his chest in a tight hug, like if he let go, Taeyong would disappear with the embrace.

Taeyong buries his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck, breathing him in, the scent of clean linen and pine filling his senses. Johnny envelops him in warmth and love, so tight that Taeyong thinks he’s never going to let go, and he’d be perfectly content with that.

“I’ve missed you, so much Yong, you can’t even imagine,” Johnny whispers, his nose poking at the junction where Taeyong’s neck meets his shoulder. “It’s been so long without you by my side.”

“I know,” Taeyong mumbles, again and again into Johnny’s skin. Enough times, and maybe he’ll really mean it, because his computer can’t possibly comprehend the hurt Johnny feels. Enough times, and perhaps Taeyong can convince himself that a meager android built reminiscent of a human, so loved and adored, can live up to what’s expected of him. “I know.”

  
  


There are little things that Taeyong has to pick up instead of relying on the memories written in his code. Like the way Johnny likes to lace his fingers around the small of Taeyong’s back when they, well, _he,_ sleeps. Unconsciously, Johnny also props his chin on top of Taeyong’s head by the time he wakes up, keeping Taeyong safe and secure in his warm embrace all through the night. Taeyong lays his ear to Johnny’s chest, listens to the steady heartbeat reverberate through him, a calming lull like the rolling of waves of the ocean.

Taeyong thinks it’s endearing that Johnny had managed to remember so much about him, the past him, to make sure that every little habit and quirk was added to Taeyong. He doesn’t doubt that Johnny loved him, considering the years they’ve spent together, then the amount of time and effort he poured into creating him again, doing the impossible. 

Johnny loves Taeyong, and the old Taeyong loves Johnny. It’s only a matter of time before the new Taeyong will see where he stands in the equation.

Johnny tries to keep the two of them in bed as long as he can in the morning, borderlining afternoons most days. They sleep until the sun is too warm and bright, to which Johnny would blink a couple times, hold Taeyong close and rub circles into his elbows. They talk in quiet whispers, because there’s no need to be so loud when they’re so close, Johnny’s breaths always fanning across Taeyong’s lips.

And when Taeyong would finally coax him out of bed with some excuse that Johnny needed to eat, or needed to work, even though he had absolutely no clue what Johnny needed, they’d go down to the kitchen together. Most days, Johnny whips something together quickly while Taeyong forgoes meals in favor of a cup of water (and if he’s feeling fancy, apple juice). But after nights when Johnny would toss and turn without properly getting the sleep he desperately needed, leaving dark circles under his eyes, Taeyong would sit him down at the island counter with a freshly brewed cappuccino in hand and cook up whatever his heart desires. Those are the days that Johnny looks the most precious, in a fluffy hoodie from his alma mater, hood pulled over his hair, mug always close to his lips as he consumes his daily caffeine.

After some more whines about how cuddling in bed for the rest of the day would be more productive than actual work, Johnny goes to his office and settles behind his computer, and he loses touch with the outside world once he's invested in his work. Taeyong likes to sit at the sofa on the opposite side of the room near the large window, which he has now noticed there were many of all around the estate to the point that this might as well have been a glass house, overlooking the rickety wooden stairs that extend from the top of the cliffs down the beach. Springtime is approaching, and all Taeyong can think about is running down those steps, beach towel tucked under his arm, the sun warming his skin as he nears the sand. Spend a day there with Johnny by his side, alternating between playing in the cool water and sunbathing. But for now, the beach is overcast with gray, but it remains beautiful nonetheless.

“Let’s go out,” Johnny says one day. “The weather’s nice.”

“Out,” Taeyong repeats. He’s hardly stepped foot out in nature yet, only admiring the beach and the rocky cliffside from the balcony of Johnny’s room. “Yeah, I would like that.”

“Perfect.” Johnny rolls out of bed on his own accord for the first time without any convincing from Taeyong. He has a bright smile on his face when he offers a hand to Taeyong to pull him up. “A beach day it is.”

  
  


The wind is sharp while on the cliffs, and it nips at Taeyong’s skin when it brushes by, but it's not too rough. The skyline is a tint darker than white, which makes the ocean look dark and dangerous. However, right above the line of gray is the sun, barely peeking out from its cloud blanket. Johnny reassures him that in just a couple minutes, it’ll be out and about. 

When they get to the rickety set of wooden stairs carved into the side of the cliff, Taeyong slides off his flip flops and presses the pads of his feet against the grains of sand and logs. It’s an odd sensation, different from what he imagined. Rockier, rougher, every other step pokes at his skin. Not perfect. Real. 

They get to the base of the cliffs, the stairs ending at an opening in the rocks like a jaw agape. And true to Johnny’s words, the sky has shifted and let its blue undertone show. 

They set up a towel a distance away from the sea, and Taeyong sprawls over it, letting his limbs splay out on the ground. The sun is soothing on his skin, and it makes him want to close his eyes forever. The occasional chirp of a seagull passing by and the crashing of waves on the sand play a back and forth game.

“C’mon, it’s your first day out. Let’s swim.”

Taeyong cracks an eye open. Johnny has already tugged off his shirt, in his swim trunks with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. The sun is behind his head, his body shadowing Taeyong.

“Nope. No swimming for me.”

Johnny cracks a smile. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Your loss,” he says, and then he’s off. Taeyong sits up on his elbows to watch Johnny grow smaller as the distance increases. He stands at the edge and waits for the waves to roll past his feet before he ventures further in.

He turns around and waves enthusiastically, and Taeyong waves back. 

That’s when the memories hit him. It overtakes his vision, but he almost doesn’t see a difference. The familiarity of this image, of Johnny in the ocean glancing back at him, uncanny, except for the slightly darker lighting that indicates a different day.

And then the images move on, and he sees Johnny sitting at his desk, glasses pushed up to lie on top of his head as he leans his chin on his hand, the other tapping a _badum badum badum_ into the desk surface as he waits for Taeyong to finish up his report about his latest trip. Johnny across from him at a fancy restaurant, decked to the nines in a fancy suit and combed back hair, a candlelit dinner for two between them, the lights behind him turning into little sparkles like fairies, a magical date night for their first wedding anniversary. It goes further back too, into their college days when they ran rampant, and he sees Johnny in a plain white tee, red solo cup in hand, arms braced across the railings of a balcony in the night, a sheen of sweat over his skin, young and so full of this energy that’s been slowly trickling out of him for years.

Taeyong looks, and he feels like he’s about to fall in love all over again. Is that how he’s supposed to feel?

His computer suggests more scenes of the real Taeyong’s past with Johnny, a long seven years worth of time together that his motherboard struggles to properly process and retain. In the span of only ten minutes, with Johnny off in the ocean playing and feeling like a child for the first in probably years, Taeyong relives their entire life together, and it’s overwhelming but bewitching at the same time.

And Taeyong wonders if this life Johnny is living now, if it could ever be as good as the life he had before, his life when the real Taeyong was by his side. 

Johnny loved Taeyong, loved him more than anything in the world. To go the lengths of practically leaving the company he built from the ground up just to focus on a project he had no idea would succeed or not, driven by the pure motivation to meet Taeyong again…

He didn’t know androids could feel fear, but in this moment, that’s the code that is processing. Pure, unadulterated fear.

“You off in your own world again?”

Taeyong sits up, disrupted from his daydream, to put it lightly. Johnny is sitting on the towel by Taeyong’s side, long legs crossed underneath him so as to not take up too much space. He has a tumbler in hand, sipping some drink he had packed. His hair is tousled by the wind, and Taeyong is conflicted whether to let him keep that messy look or to reach up and pat it down when in just a few minutes, the ocean breeze would pick up and blow the strands in random directions again.

“I suppose so.” Taeyong smiles. “Johnny, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s your absolute favorite thing in the world?”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow. “That’s a broad question. Do you mean physical things, feelings, people…”

“Anything and everything, I guess. The one thing you can’t possibly live without.”

“Do you want me to say something cheesy?” 

Taeyong pouts. “If that’s your most genuine answer, then sure.”

There’s a cheeky grin on Johnny’s lips that could only mean trouble. “You”

If Taeyong could breathe actual oxygen, he thinks that he wouldn’t be able to at that moment. But then he snaps out of it and slaps at Johnny’s knee.

“Oh, shut up.”

“It’s the truth, Yong. I’ve never met someone like you in my entire life. You’ve always been so special, so different. You stood out to me, and I love that about you.”

Johnny takes a hold of Taeyong’s hand, his thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand. 

“I’d give up everything for you. And if I get the chance to rebuild myself and regain everything I had before, I would give it all up again for you. Over and over again.”

Taeyong can’t even properly come up with a response at that point. Johnny looks so vulnerable, so willing to give every part of himself to Taeyong, this new, inhuman version of him.

 _An irreplaceable type of love_ , his computer suggests.

Taeyong only smiles and squeezes Johnny’s fingers in response.

After dinner, Johnny takes Taeyong on a trail leading straight out of the backyard, a twisting dirt path that winds to the rocky cliff, the one that leads into an arch at the edge of the beach, closing off the sand as the other column roots itself in the depths of the ocean. Johnny, with his free hand, the other clasped tightly in Taeyong’s, points at the upside-down U, and tells him about the many times he’s swum through it to reach the beach on the other side. 

“Isn’t that dangerous? The waves could just throw you against the rocks,” Taeyong says.

“Probably,” Johnny replies with a shrug. “But it’s fun.”

“I don’t think it’s worth the risk…”

“You say that every time I go,” Johnny laughs. They reach a fork in the trail, and Johnny pulls them towards the left, the path lit up by small outdoor lights in the places the houses don’t cast a glow on. “I’m still okay, aren’t I?”

Taeyong hums and rocks to the side to bump his shoulder against Johnny’s instead of responding.

The cliff narrows the more they stroll, tapering at the edge where the thinner rock formation extends into the arch. There’s a stone bench facing out towards the ocean there, and the two of them sit side by side. Taeyong’s not quite sure how Johnny is still in a shirt and shorts in such a cold, night breeze. 

“I missed this,” Johnny says after a moment of silence as they look out into the view, and Taeyong isn’t sure where the ocean ends and where the sky starts. “Took five years, but I think it’s worth every second.”

Something pangs in Taeyong’s chest, like a moved wire striking a nerve. Five years for some uncertain future. And probably five more, if he had to. 

Instead, he decides to change the topic, because thinking about those five years of Johnny working nonstop by himself, waiting for the day everything would come together to make Taeyong again, hurts in a way that it shouldn’t.

“Tell me about our college days, Johnny,” he says quietly. 

Taeyong can practically hear the smile in Johnny’s voice as he begins to reminisce. “God, I wouldn’t even know where to start. Half of it was just all-nighters.”

Taeyong smiles as he leans his head on Johnny’s shoulder, and tightens his hold on his hand as he recalls their adventures in their prime, from their first meeting on orientation day, to the four years leading up to their engagement. It’s a fairytale, but instead of the happy ending they should have had, they lost it to a tragedy. But Taeyong supposes that now, they can rewrite that ending.

Taeyong hasn’t had to use the charging station since Johnny added the new chip to him, but he could tell by how slow the whirring in his body has become, how loud it has grown, working twice as hard to get the same amount of energy into Taeyong’s movement and thinking, that he would need to recharge his battery for a few hours before he could properly function again. He was a new model after all. There are many aspects to his machinery that are still to be tested and reworked for more efficiency. 

That afternoon, while Johnny is working, he slips away, leaves a note with the cleaner bot about his whereabouts just so Johnny doesn’t worry, and goes to his room. He hasn’t been in there since the update either.

He doesn’t know how long it would take to recharge his battery completely, and he loses touch with reality when the sun is still high and bright, turning the ocean a beautiful sea green. When he blinks his eyes open again, muttering, “Hello. I am TY-71, Prototype 1,” the sun is long gone, the room cast in dark shadows.

Taeyong tugs the wires off and exits the room. He checks the master bedroom, but it’s been untouched since they woke that morning. 

Then, he checks the office, and still, no sign of Johnny. He wanders through the first floor, through the kitchen, the living room, the fountain. 

The cleaner bot has gone to its charging port too, shutting off for the night. That leaves Taeyong on his own to wander.

He ventures back down the hall where Johnny’s office is, and instead, heads to the door at the end which he’s never explored. It barely takes a push for the door to slide open on its own, recognizing the presence of someone in front of it. 

The door leads Taeyong to the indoor pool. The ceiling lights aren't on, leaving the room dim, its only source of light coming from the pool itself. The walls are cast with a blue tint from the water, wavering, changing its patterns every second. Taeyong wraps his robe around his body tighter before hesitantly entering.

He watches the lights shift, the pool water rushing past the marble edge every so often, only to disappear into the inconspicuous row of drains around the pool. It's not difficult to spot Johnny, even in such a giant pool that could belong in a waterpark and hold many, many more people.

Splashes of crystal clear droplets erupt out of the surface every time Johnny lifts his head up to breathe. The water then settles for a moment when he goes back under. He doesn't use his arms yet, keeping in a streamline position as he kicks underneath the surface. It's enrapturing to watch him move across the water so elegantly, back and forth along the expanse of the pool.

Taeyong doesn't know how long he's there, standing to the side, watching Johnny swim to and fro. He feels at peace when he hears the water lap over the edge, hears the splash every time Johnny kicks off the wall for another circuit around the pool.

He doesn't even realize that he's been standing there idly, eyes closed, letting his other senses take control until he hears a clearing of the throat.

"Have you been here for long?" Johnny says. Only his head is peeking out from the water, despite being on the shallow end of the pool. His chin bobbles on the surface, face alight with blue.

"I'm not quite sure. I lost track after your fourth lap," Taeyong replies with a small smile. He walks closer but doesn't dare go any farther when he feels water against the pads of his feet.

"You could have just called my name."

"I didn't want to disturb you."

"You wouldn't be a disturbance. You'll never be."

Taeyong only hums in response.

Johnny treads forward so that he's at the edge of the pool, and he lifts himself just far enough for his arms to break the surface, crossing them on the marble. He then lays his head on his forearms, eyes never leaving Taeyong's.

And, god, Taeyong can't help but admire the way the droplets drip from Johnny's hair, trailing down the curve of his cheek, down his neck until they fall back to the water. The pool light from below casts a shadow across his face, only an eye and mouth alight. The blue washes over his face in a gentle haze, and it makes him seem just a little more unattainable.

"Did you need something? I'm sorry I made you wait so long," Johnny says, and there's something in his eyes that Taeyong can't quite pinpoint, but it makes him shift his weight back and forth on his feet and tug on his robe.

"I just... I just wanted to come find you." Taeyong lets himself take a few short steps closer to Johnny, careful to avoid any puddles. "I've never been here before."

"Ah. I never quite showed you around this part of the house. That's on me."

Taeyong doesn't move. He bites his bottom lip and watches Johnny carefully. He's too scared to ask, because it seems like such a stupid question that should have been encoded into his instincts already.

"You're waterproof, don't worry. I built you with that in mind." At that, Taeyong takes a few more steps until his toes reach the marble. "You love the water. It's one of the reasons why we have such a large pool. And why this mansion was built by the beach."

Taeyong doesn't have it in him to remind Johnny that it's not him that loved the water. It was Taeyong. The real one. Instead, he extends his leg towards the pool so he can dip his big toe in. It's warmer than he thought it would be.

Johnny laughs. "You'll be fine, I swear. I wouldn't lie to you like that." He pulls away from the deck, letting his head fall until he's floating on his back. His eyes are closed, tranquil.

Taeyong takes a seat right at the edge, adjusting his robe so he'd be cushioned. Then, he carefully submerges one leg in, and then the other. He kicks around gently, watching as the movement makes the sight of his bare calves waver in the water.

"Feels nice?" Johnny asks. He's still floating, but an eye is open, watching Taeyong.

"Amazing," Taeyong exhales.

Minutes pass, and the two of them are silent. Taeyong takes that time to relish in the feel of the warm water brushing up against his knee. The pool has settled now that Johnny isn't swimming, but it still moves back and forth in calming pendulum swings.

"Do you spend your time here often?" Taeyong thinks he should know, like he knows everything else about them, but no matter how hard he combs through his files, he can't find any memory of Taeyong and the water. 

"It's how I de-stress. And my line of work is pretty stressful sometimes, so I guess you could say yes."

Taeyong watches as Johnny sinks, letting the water bury him, and his instinct tells him to dive in, grab ahold of Johnny and pull him out. But he knows Johnny will be fine, the rational part of his software reasons. And indeed, Johnny breaks through the water not long after, shaking his head like a wet dog. He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead.

And then he's treading towards Taeyong, lids hooded, an unreadable glint in his eyes that makes Taeyong's mind glitch for a second.

"Does being here remind you of... him? Is that why?" Taeyong says, and at that moment, Johnny is so close, his hands placed on Taeyong's knees. He continues to bob along the surface, only the top of his shoulders emerging from the water every so often.

"You. It reminds me of you. And I'm glad you found your way here."

Taeyong wets his lower lip with his tongue, trying his best to avoid Johnny's intense gaze. He focuses on the way the water ripples over one of the pool's light fixtures. 

It makes him nervous, the way Johnny is looking at him as if he had hung the moon and painted the stars. And it hurts. No matter how good he is at programming, he can never code Taeyong into feeling that same kind of passion. He can try, and Taeyong can let his motherboard run rampant in putting together memories to form some aspect of love, but that can't possibly rival the love that Johnny and the real Taeyong had. 

This Taeyong, the android with a battery for a heart, can never match that. The whirring in his chest can never replace the sound of a human heartbeat. 

But god, does the way Johnny look at him make Taeyong believe that he really is the person Johnny has loved all his life. In a way, he is. He has Taeyong's face, has his memories and his little quirks. He's a convincing enough actor.

Johnny's fingers tug at the hem of Taeyong's robe playfully. "It's funny. You love the water, but you've never been a fan of swimming. Said it made your skin too pruney."

Taeyong giggles, but it's replaced by a sharp gasp when Johnny splays his hand on Taeyong's thigh. His thumb presses into the pale skin gently. 

"Every time we went to the beach, I would have to carry you to the water, otherwise you wouldn't bother moving from the towel we set up. Even when it was the hottest day of the summer, you'd never go into the water because you felt that you spent too much time in the pools at work."

"And then I'd go home with a horrible sunburn," Taeyong finishes, laughing to try to rid himself of his nerves. "I couldn’t tan if I tried to."

"You wouldn't stop whining about it, either." Johnny's smile grows more and more distracted as his hands knead at Taeyong's thigh. 

Taeyong hadn't noticed, but now, his legs have spread to make room for Johnny to wedge in between, and his face is impossibly close to Taeyong's. He can hear every breath enter and exit his mouth. He can see the water droplets on Johnny's broad shoulders, following one or two trails down his arm and his chest.

He doesn't know if it's the encoded memory or the fact that he simply wanted to, but his hands are on Johnny, palms on the curve of his shoulders, feeling every dip and crevice. He thinks that maybe this would be in his memory, but it's not, and he takes his time relearning Johnny's body.

Johnny leans forward, his forehead pressing against Taeyong's, and his wet hair leaves a faint coolness on Taeyong's skin. His eyes are closed, and he inhales, deep. His hands slide further up Taeyong's thighs, the robe falling aside to allow full access to Taeyong's skin.

"There are a lot of things I thought about while making you, Taeyong," Johnny whispers. Taeyong's senses are tuned only to Johnny's touch, and he can feel his lips moving, brushing so close to him. "And I thought about how it would make me feel. I'm not going to lie, I think I did a pretty good job."

Taeyong can't help the quiet mewl that makes his way out of his mouth when Johnny's hand squeezes at the flesh of his leg again. 

When Johnny tilts his chin ever so slightly, his nose brushes against Taeyong's, another reminder that they are so incredibly close, practically chest to chest, and it's taking Taeyong's every bit of restraint to not just lean forward a hint and do as he is programmed. To bring Johnny pleasure, play the role of the loving husband and give himself up, to kiss Johnny until he's breathless, make the noises he knows will make Johnny go haywire.

"God, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this," he breathes, and somehow, he gets even closer. "You're everything I've ever wanted."

Taeyong can only sigh, wrap his arms around the back of Johnny's neck, and let Johnny press their lips together in the most delectable way.

No amount of code or manufacturing could have ever prepared Taeyong for the feeling of Johnny's mouth against his, hot and wet and intoxicating. And it feels perfect, the way they fit against each other. 

Johnny sighs into the kiss, his hands gliding up Taeyong’s thighs, snagging on his briefs for barely a moment, then his arms move along his curves until they encircle Taeyong’s bare waist under the open robe. He pulls Taeyong closer, slotting himself right in between Taeyong’s legs. 

He pulls away and dives right back in with the same fervor, if not more, taking in every part of Taeyong, relearning everything he’s forgotten in the past five years. His kisses grow deeper, and it leaves the both of them panting, even though Taeyong’s breaths are nothing but the movement of his chest rising up and down.

Johnny mouths down Taeyong’s jawline, nips at the skin, tongue darting out every once in a while, kissing his neck and collarbones. Taeyong wonders if it’ll leave marks, or if it’ll seem like this night never happened without the evidence that’ll usually be on full display.

But in that moment, Taeyong arches his back into Johnny’s chest and lets pleasure take over him without the worries of tomorrow. 

“Trust me?”

Taeyong blinks a few times, not yet registering the words properly.

“You trust me, Yong?”

Johnny waits for an answer he already knows. He waits for Taeyong to nod, mumble a _yes_ , before he reaches up to shed the robe off of Taeyong’s shoulders, letting it drop on the pool deck, then pulling Taeyong into him as he backs off of the ledge. Taeyong hooks his legs around Johnny’s back, and he’s lowered into the water, all the way up to his sternum. It’s not too cool, a good temperature for exercising, but not for relaxing in.

Johnny’s mouth unlatches from Taeyong’s neck, but his eyes remain on Taeyong, roaming without shame across his bare body that’s not submerged in the pool. He slowly walks the two of them to the stairs at the end of the pool, and Taeyong focuses more on calming the his whirling fan, forehead buried in Johnny’s shoulder.

When Johnny puts him down, his feet press against cold tile, similar to that of the pool deck but when he lifts his head, he notices the difference in the lighting of the much smaller room. 

“Let’s get you washed up.” Johnny’s hands are steady at Taeyong’s waist. He strips out of his swim trunks and helps Taeyong out of his briefs, then guides them through the large glass doors of the shower. The water that hits Taeyong’s back in a steady stream is far hotter, relaxing along with Johnny’s hands massaging at the base of his neck.

Taeyong knows where it’s going, even when Johnny’s touches are careful to never linger too long as he moves them across Taeyong’s shoulders. Taeyong knows where it’s going, and some irrational insecurity catches him unexpectedly, telling him to stop, to not let it go any further. 

_You’re not Taeyong. You can’t satisfy him._

But it’s what he’s built to be. He _is_ Taeyong, the Taeyong Johnny has molded from his memory and electrical wires and thousands of lines of codes. He is a machine, but he is still Taeyong.

Johnny begins to rub shampoo into his hair, the bubbles tickling the base of his neck. 

“You know you don’t have to—”

Johnny hums. “I know. But I want to.”

Taeyong blinks a few times and then lets his eyes close. He relaxes some more, until he’s resting against Johnny’s chest.

The fight continues in his head, two lions biting at each other’s neck with no prospective winner. It comes at the expense of combining machine with human; they fight, they are incompatible, and it’s causing a glitch in Taeyong that he doesn’t know how to fix.

The machine wins. When Johnny splays his hand on Taeyong’s belly and kisses behind his ears, tracing the droplets of water down his neck to his collarbones, Taeyong leans back into him and lets out a moan that only spurs Johnny on more. The machine wins, and Taeyong can’t help but think that his purpose has become obsolete. 

Johnny picks him up, turns the shower off, and dries them off with a towel. He holds Taeyong as if he weighed a feather. A few steps, and Taeyong feels soft satin against his skin, head perched on a pillow. 

“You are absolutely stunning, sweetheart,” Johnny breathes.

Taeyong replies with a quiet laugh. “Thanks.” Then he quirks a finger at Johnny, beckoning, and Johnny complies easily.

_Please him, play the part, you were brought to life for one reason. Don’t fight it, the code will win, you are not human._

It’s crazy, as much as Taeyong wants Johnny, enjoys how his mouth works wonders across his skin in this perfectly practiced manner, no mistakes, only finding the parts that make Taeyong go haywire, Taeyong still feels guilt.  
He’s not Taeyong, the real one, never will be. 

_But you are Taeyong in his eyes_.

God, he wishes it would stop correcting him, whatever _it_ is. But he supposes that’s ingenious on Johnny’s part, to make sure that Taeyong remains Taeyong, and doesn’t get overrun but some faulty AI that thinks it has a mind of its own.

He’s tired, mentally. He doesn’t want to fight it. Johnny feels so good, his hands and body on Taeyong, warm and inviting and perfect for him. Johnny’s fingers working him open in the most delectable manner that makes Taeyong see stars. Johnny _in_ him, a sensation that demands all of Taeyong’s energy to be focused on capturing the sense of touch.

“You are perfect, Yong,” Johnny says, uttered into Taeyong’s ear. “I love you.”

Taeyong doesn’t get to properly respond with words, but he thinks that his whines are enough, judging by the way Johnny quickens his movements.

And when they’ve both reached their peak, Johnny has this beautiful, satisfying smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite how hard he’s breathing that reminds Taeyong why he’s in love with this man, even if it’s created by a series of letters and numbers and symbols meant to imitate that natural feeling.

Guilt is drowned by pleasure, and Taeyong thinks that perhaps having Johnny by his side is a destiny that he should settle with rather than seeking a truth that can tear them apart.

  
  


Taeyong wants to say that the feeling that’s generated in him is love, not just the artificial one that he’s been programmed to have, but something he’s come to know well himself. It’s not old Taeyong that loves Johnny, it’s him, TY-71, Prototype 1, that loves Johnny as well. It makes him a little giddy to know that Johnny loves him back unconditionally.

Mornings are the same, with Taeyong waking up tucked under Johnny’s chin, arms around each other, legs tangled under the sheets, the early sun rays muffled by the curtains to leave warm yellow-orange spots all over the room. 

But then they begin to change, the mornings. Taeyong has grown so used to the warmth that the day he wakes up to empty arms and a cold bed, he sits up abruptly, worry flooding through him. 

“Johnny?” he calls out quietly, but receives no response. His hand pats at the spot where Johnny usually is in an attempt to figure out if he’s been gone long enough to call for a search party. There’s no note on the bedside table, something they’ve grown used to leaving if either has to skip routine for anything.

He frantically gets out of bed, grabbing a random shirt from Johnny’s drawer, hem long enough to fall to his midthigh. Taeyong rushes out of the bedroom and checks the other unlocked rooms upstairs, before taking the steps down two at a time to get to the first floor. 

No sign of Johnny in the kitchen, living room, or his study. He even tries the swimming pool again, as much as it makes him blush. No sign.

The cleaner bot wheels past him with quiet brushing noises down the hall.

“Where else could he be…”

Taeyong sprints down the hall and to the living room, where he faces the glass door, which from his side, is shaded, discouraging unwanted entries. He presses his thumb to the keypad when it lights up green, and somehow, it takes his fingerprint without a problem.

He descends the stairs to the labs, scanning as quickly as he can, searching for the sight that would finally calm how quick the red light in his computer is blinking, warning Taeyong that his stress level is too high.

Then he sees Johnny, back to the door, hunched over in his pristine white lab jacket, dark hair a mess, and Taeyong can finally bring his worry down to a manageable level. 

He runs his hand against the glass walls in search of the panel that’ll wing out like a door. When he opens it, the creak is quiet, but enough to cause Johnny to pause, place his tools down, and spin around on his stool.

“Taeyong.” His smile is easy, a little too relaxed. “How was your sleep?”

“It was…” Taeyong takes a moment, pressing his hand to where his heart cavity would be. He can feel the whirring dull to its usual background noise. “It was fine.”

“Good, good.” Johnny turns back to his table to quickly wipe his fingers off on a towel, before standing up abruptly. He walks to Taeyong, and they’re suddenly chest to chest. Taeyong cranes his neck to look into Johnny’s eyes. As warm as they are, Taeyong and tell that there's something brewing behind them that he’s desperately trying to hide. Johnny then wraps his arms tight around Taeyong, head falling into the crook of his neck. He drawls a long inhale. “I love you, Yong.”

It catches him a little by surprise, and almost makes Taeyong’s system overheat. He faintly remembers Johnny uttering those same words the night before, but he had been too out of his mind to properly register and react to them. He settles his arms at Johnny’s waist and nuzzles his nose into Johnny’s chest. “Love you, too.”

“Let’s go make some breakfast. I’m starving.”

“Have you been working all morning?”

Johnny pulls away but keeps his arms wrapped around Taeyong, a sheepish smile on his lips. “Yeah… Must have come up with some genius new idea in my dreams or something. I had to get some kind of model out before I forgot.”

Taeyong frowns a little, and Johnny reaches a finger to press against Taeyong's cheek, pulling lightly to try and quirk the corner of his lips up. Taeyong responds with a deeper scowl that makes Johnny laugh. “You didn’t leave a note like we usually do.”

“Ah, I completely forgot…” Johnny chuckles, but it’s awkward and forced. “Must have been too caught up in getting here without waking you up, baby. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“It’s fine.” In the spur of the moment, Taeyong leans up to press a chaste kiss to Johnny’s cheek. “C’mon, I can tell you’re starving. I’ll make something for you.”

  
  


Curiosity isn’t a feeling that should have been programmed into his system. If anything, that’s the one thing that should have been locked behind firewalls, because artificial intelligence that is left to its own accord becomes some humans’ greatest fear. 

Curiosity is what gets the best of Taeyong when he cautiously pulls himself out of Johnny’s embrace in the middle of the night, when he scans Johnny’s vitals to make sure he’s in deep enough of a slumber. Luckily, Johnny is a heavy sleeper.

Taeyong tiptoes out of the room and down the glass stairs. It’s a little ominous, the house in the dead of night. The large, wall-length windows let the entire view of the sea and the sky in. The crescent moon leaves its imprint on the ripples of the pond, a bright white that shimmers silver.

He passes the pond and heads to the seemingly inconspicuous door of the living room. It’s locked this time around, but Taeyong easily finds the password to bypass it. Things are easy to hack when you are in the same species, he supposes.

The motion sensors cause the lights to flicker on, room by room, all connected by glass windows. It doesn’t take long for Taeyong to reach the spot Johnny had been working at earlier that day. After all, only a few lab spaces are occupied and left half-cleaned with just one scientist operating the whole place.

Hesitantly, Taeyong opens the door to the lab and walks to the station barefoot. Alarm grows in him, his computer screaming at him to back away, that this isn’t something he should see. But he persists.

Johnny had been so suspicious when Taeyong found him earlier. But there shouldn’t be a need to hide anything between them, right?

His motherboard simulates nausea when Taeyong’s eyes zero in on the glass plates scattered across the station. He gags on nothing, and the corner of his eyes fill with tears.

He’s just an _android,_ for god’s sake. But he’s an android meant to be so close to human that people shouldn’t be able to tell the difference. That’s why it scares him. 

There are grafts of synthetic skin, multiple samples of them, some in its finished form, others still halfway through manufacturing. Little squares, like paint swatches for house renovations.

Taeyong immediately grasps at his hands, staring at them in disbelief. They feel… real, the same warmth and smoothness he feels when he holds Johnny’s hands. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with his build. Johnny had done a perfect job.

And then it hits him.

He could never satisfy Johnny. Taeyong could replace his memory chip, personality chip, his motherboard and his skin and his hair a hundred times and Johnny would still see differences between the android and the late human. It’s an inevitable cycle that Taeyong is afraid of, so, very much.

He sprints out of the lab and up the stairs, hardly checking whether the doors closed behind him. He sprints until he’s back upstairs, at the master bedroom. He debates whether to return or not. The sight of Johnny made him remember the samples in the lab, and he could retch if he had food to force out of him.

Taeyong presses his back against the door of the bedroom instead, and slides to a seat. He pulls his legs into his chest in a tight hug.

He would erase the memory if he could. He wants to push it away, pretend everything was still okay, slide back into bed with Johnny and relish his warmth again.

But he can’t. 

His hands, his skin aren’t up to par. Taeyong knows that the real version of him had a scar etched right next to the corner of his eye, a scar that Johnny liked to kiss and called a beautiful blooming rose. This Taeyong doesn’t have that imperfection. And he remembers that moment he looked into the mirror for the first time to see those mismatched eyes. He isn’t right. He isn’t Johnny’s husband. 

Taeyong walks down the hall to the room with his charging station, and falls onto the plush bed. The satin sheets are cold to the touch. The window is open, though he doesn’t remember opening it. The white curtains billow from the wild sea breeze, and Taeyong watches the patterned movement until the sun begins its ascent into the sky to welcome a new day.

  
  


“I must have an… imperfection, a mistake in there, I don’t see how that could have…”

Johnny’s muttering is quiet, but Taeyong still hears him. Taeyong can’t bring it in him to lift himself out of bed. He stares at the white curtains, translucent and allows bright sun rays into the room. He doesn’t blink.

“I’ll have to run through the program again… Can’t let this happen again. No more malfunctions.” Johnny paces across the span of the room, from one wall to the other.

Taeyong wants to try, he really does. He has a purpose, after all. He has some regiment to follow, in a way. But he’s rather content just staring at the window. He’s scared to move.

“Fuck!” Johnny grabs a metal sculpture that displayed on the TV stand. He winds his arm back and hurls it towards the ground. It doesn’t shatter, but dents against the carpet.

Taeyong doesn’t even flinch.

“Hello. I am TY-71, Prototype 1.”

“Taeyong.”

It takes a moment for the vision to register in his computer. He expected the same view of the bland abstract painting on the wall opposite of his charging station that was right above a display shelf with little pottery pieces. A quick scan revealed them to be of all different origins across the world, a map of the couple’s past travels on exhibit.

But instead, he gets the same white, blinding view of the lights. The same one from when he first awoke, first came to life, lying on that cold examination table.

The labs. Taeyong wants to sprint out of there as fast as he can, fear latching onto him as if it had claws.

“Taeyong?”

He twists his neck towards the source of the voice. Johnny has a hand gripping Taeyong’s forearm, rubbing small circles into the crook of his elbow. His brown hair is a mess atop his head, like he had run his fingers through it too many times that it stuck up at unflattering angles. He looks exhausted.

“Johnny.” Taeyong sits up jerkily, then shifts to face Johnny, legs dangling off the edge of the table. “Are you alright?”

“I’m just fine, sweetheart.” Johnny takes both of Taeyong’s hands in his and squeezes them, tight. He rolls closer on his chair, and for once, he has to look up to meet Taeyong’s eyes. “Are _you_ alright? Do you feel normal?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Taeyong asks inquisitively.

“Just wanted to check. Your fan was acting up, so I had to take a look at it.” Johnny smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes in the way they usually do.

“Oh.” Taeyong drops his head and watches as Johnny absentmindedly plays with Taeyong’s fingers. He runs his thumb over the golden band on Taeyong’s left hand. Huh. He doesn’t remember having that on before. “Well, I’m good. For the record.”

“Good.”

Up close, Taeyong can see the shadow across Johnny’s chin and jaw, unshaved and scratchy. He pulls a hand away from Johnny’s grasp to run it across his dark strands, flattening them down to be more presentable. Then, he draws his palm down to lie on Johnny’s cheek. Johnny’s breath hitches.

“I love you, Yong. You’re absolutely perfect. Too good to be true,” Johnny mumbles, closing his eyes in response to Taeyong’s touch. “I love you so much.”

Taeyong hums with a small smile. He strokes the pad of his thumb over Johnny’s cheekbone. 

It’s not just the labs that scare him. It’s the expectations Johnny holds, for an android to somehow replace the love that he had with Taeyong, something so pure and sacred. Taeyong knows, knows that Johnny is lying. TY-71 isn’t perfect. If he was, then he wouldn’t be sitting back at the labs, cut open like a slab of meat, resewn and rewired and reprogrammed to meet Johnny’s gold-tinted vision of Taeyong. 

But what can he do? At the end of the day, Johnny is still his master, still has complete control over TY-71. Taeyong can’t let him down, his computer doesn’t let him. 

So Taeyong mumbles back a quiet, “I love you too, Johnny.” He presses his lips to the crown of Johnny’s head, and he wonders if Johnny feels the genuine warmth of a human companion at all when he embraces Taeyong at night.

  
  


There’s a heart-wrenching sob, something almost inhuman, that rings through the silence of the night, and it jolts Taeyong up jerkily. He braces his hands behind him and turns his head towards the source of the noise.

Johnny is curled in on himself facing the window, away from Taeyong’s spot on the bed. His chest rises and falls in quick succession, breathing labored. When Taeyong places a hand on his shoulder, he hardly reacts, and his choked sobs continue, little noises that feel like a stab in the gut. Taeyong pulls on his shoulder, turning him to his back, and Johnny gives in easily. He must still be asleep.

“Johnny,” Taeyong calls quietly. 

His eyes are squeezed tight, his cheeks stained with tears, dried across his skin, traced over by fresh ones. He lets out another whimper.

Then, he yells, guttural and loud, that Taeyong nearly jumps back. Johnny yells, and his torso launches forward. His hands flatten against the bed on either side of his legs, and he hunches forward, eyes unfocused, and the yell is replaced by sharp inhales and exhales.

“Taeyong,” Johnny breathes, the syllables barely making its way out of his mouth as he chokes on another cry. “Taeyong. Fuck.”

“Hey, Johnny, I’m right here,” Taeyong places a hand on top of Johnny’s, the other on his back. His muscles are pulled taut, strained. “I’m right here.”

“I— I saw you, you were in the passenger seat, you _smiled at me_ ,” Johnny’s words stumble, interrupted by hiccups and moments where he’d squeeze his eyes shut to stabilize himself. “And that was the last time I saw you… alive. I watched you go. I watched the life drain out of you as we waited for help.”

“Oh, darling,” Taeyong watches him for a moment, cautiously. His eyes are glossy, filled with more unshed tears, and his voice so raw and broken. Ragged and in ruins, similar to the pictures Taeyong had seen released by the press after his first public appearance with his company after the accident. The haggard look in his face that doesn’t go away, can never go away. Taeyong thinks, for a second in the millions of seconds in their lives, that perhaps he can save Johnny, bring him back to his former glory, the days when his career flourished, and when the real Taeyong was by his side. 

So he pulls Johnny into his body, lays his head on his chest, and holds him tight. Taeyong presses light kisses into his hair, rubs his thumb along the back of his ear in comforting circles. “Don’t cry, I’m right here.”

“It hurts, Yong, so much.” His voice cracks partway through. “I thought I could just forget it. But I can’t. It’s ingrained in my memory just like all the memories of him.”

His sensory-motor kicks in and draws hurt through Taeyong’s body in wide brush strokes, an ache that pulses like hot coal on skin. It’s pain, but it’s pain that doesn’t go away, and it leaves a tattoo mark, a brand on him. 

It’s the first time Johnny has referred to the old Taeyong as another being rather than the Taeyong in his bed, holding him. And some part of this android Taeyong has convinced himself that yes, he could be the real one, he could live up to Johnny’s expectations and be the man he loved for so long. And just one word shatters that dream world he’s conjured up for himself where Johnny could love a fake, animatronic version of his past.

“It’s okay,” Taeyong says, again and again, but each time, it loses its meaning. Nothing is alright with this. There’s so much grief that Johnny relives just by having a clone of Taeyong walking his everyday life as if he never died. Almost like watching a ghost move around his home, haunting his mind, but never truly manifesting.

And Taeyong has to be on the other end of it, watching the human believe that the ghost is somehow real and not in his imagination. He’s behind a one-way mirror with no way of signaling, to tell him that nothing is true.

Eventually, Johnny’s sobs slip into a pattern of gentle breathing that finally lets Taeyong let go of the tension that’s been plaguing him for the past few minutes. He plays with the strands of Johnny’s hair that’s grown out a bit too long, curls them around his fingers. Johnny’s hand is in a fist on Taeyong’s thigh, but it’s loose, a reflexive grasp. And soon enough, he’s sound asleep. 

Holding Johnny like this feels too _much_. Johnny trusts him, trusts an android to love him and care for him. 

That’s when Taeyong’s silent tears begin streaming, but he’s careful not to disturb Johnny, beautiful, loving Johnny who’s done too much good to deserve losing his soulmate, from his deep slumber. 

  
  


When the doorbell rings, a crisp, modern ding that is loud, yet hardly registers alarm in Taeyong’s system, the cleaner bot stands stoic to the side, and instead, Johnny bursts around the corner, reading glasses still on from working in the study, and heads to the front door. 

Then Taeyong hears the voice of another male, a bit deeper than Johnny’s.

“It’s been a while, John. How’re you keeping up?”

“Everything’s been going well, Jaehyun.”

Ah. _Jaehyun_. The other side of the coin of the founders of Neo Tech. Johnny’s best friend from college.

There are quiet footsteps of heels clicking against the marble floor as the two make their way down the hall and through the foyer.

“So a little birdy told me that your big project has just been finished. I’m disappointed I wasn’t the first to hear about it.” They share a hearty laugh.

“Well, it’s not finished, per se.”

“Right. Nothing’s ever finished if it can be improved.”

“You know me too well.” Taeyong can practically see the playful smile accompanying his voice.

Taeyong remains in his spot on the couch, bare feet tucked under him as he hugs his knees. He grabs a book from the shelf behind the sofa to seem busy. He bites nervously at the inside of his cheek.

“Well, shit, Johnny, I didn’t believe you when you said you could do it, but this is incredible,” Jaehyun says when he appears around the corner. “It’s really him.”

“Taeyong, this is Jaehyun,” Johnny introduces when they approach him. “He’s my closest colleague. We started Neo Technology together back in college.”

Taeyong unfolds himself, letting his legs fall to the floor. He extends a hand towards Jaehyun. 

“I know.” Taeyong smiles. “We used to go out for coffee runs together when Johnny tried to finish his comp sci projects last minute.”

“Ah, the good days,” Jaehyun says. When he pulls his hand away, he glances down at his palm for a moment, reveling at something that’s not really there, at least so it seems to Taeyong. “It’s been a long time, Taeyong.”

“It has.”

“Well,” Johnny interjects. “Jaehyun’s here to talk about some things that I’ve missed at work during my leave, so we’ll be in the sitting room, Yong.” He leans over to kiss the crown of Taeyong’s head, before he leads Jaehyun out of the living room.

Taeyong thinks that sometimes Johnny forgets that Taeyong isn’t human. He’s built to replicate the human senses, but they don’t deplete over time. So even from where he is, two rooms away, he can hear the two talking, loud and clear. He drops the book on the cushion. The cleaner bot next to him blinks to life to begin its daily floor sweep.

“I applaud you, Johnny, really. It’s the exact replication of him. It even feels human, the skin. And the coding is immaculate, to have it be able to speak exactly as he would have.” Jaehyun chuckles. “If you told me that you somehow learned how to resurrect corpses, I would have believed that the thing in there is the real Taeyong.”

“He. That is Taeyong. Not an _it_.”

“Johnny.” Jaehyun sighs, long and exasperated. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“He is Taeyong. And I’m happy.”

“This isn’t healthy, John. Every time you look at him… doesn’t it reopen old wounds? Don’t you just think back to that moment? Because I know I do, and I haven’t properly visited you in nearly five years.”

“I have him back, doesn’t that make it better? He’s alive, and he’s well.” Johnny sounds a little unsure of his own argument. “I get to keep him in my life for good this time.”

“The first thing we learn when it comes to artificial intelligence is that it shouldn’t be used to replace the human aspects. You _know_ this.”

“This is innovative, revolutionary. Create a few more androids like him for others, and see how they fare in society. We could bring people back the ones they lost.”

“Just because we want to bring them back doesn’t mean we should.”

“It’s complicated. I can’t just have the ability to bring him back and not use it.”

“But it’s not _right_.”

Taeyong is taken aback when Johnny raises his voice, almost to a yell. “Don’t you think I thought about that, every goddamn second of the last five years since he died? The number of times I’ve had to stop myself halfway through working to wonder if everything I was doing was right?”

Silence.

Then, Jaehyun says coldly, “What happens when you grow old, Johnny? Are you going to remake his skin and add wrinkles and spots? Or keep him as this twenty-eight year old man forever? You’re not going to be able to keep this up. He’s _artificial_.” 

“No, he’s not. He’s got all the parts of Taeyong to him, why can’t he just _be_ him?”

“Because you can’t bring back the dead, Johnny! Nature has a way with humans, and it said that day that it was time for Taeyong to go!”

There’s heavy breathing from both parties. Taeyong covers his mouth with his hand, and if he had a real heart, he’s sure it would be beating too fast in his chest right now.

“That’s low, Jaehyun.”

“Johnny, I’m sorry.”

“I want you out of my house.”

“Johnny—”

“ _Now_.”

The foyer opens up to the living room where Taeyong sits, he realizes. He scrambles off the sofa, nearly tripping on the leg of the coffee table as he ducks through the opposing doorway into the kitchen. When he’s a good distance across the house, far enough for Johnny to think that he hadn’t just heard every word uttered between the two, Taeyong braces both arms against the nearest wall. He hangs his head, pushing his weight into his hands. He blinks and wishes that he had a heartbeat to indicate his emotions. But he doesn’t. Only the whirring of his fan responds, picking up speed to match the trouble his computer is going through trying to make sense of Taeyong’s frenzy of feelings.

That’s the confirmation Taeyong had been waiting for. That Taeyong wasn’t just coming up with these irrational thoughts on his own, some glitch that had altered the way he views his mission. Jaehyun is right. He couldn’t stay.

  
  


Johnny loves him more physically, all of a sudden. It’s not like he hadn’t before. Johnny always found comfort in pulling Taeyong close to him, embracing and cuddling him, pressing ticklish kisses to his face. He loved situating his hands around Taeyong’s thin waist and nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck. Johnny has always been touchy.

But since the day Taeyong woke up in the labs, Johnny’s way of holding Taeyong has changed. When he holds Tayong’s waist, he pinches at the skin there, and his fingers dip under Taeyong’s shirt, an innocent expression cast over his features. He kneads at Taeyong’s curves and splays his hand on Taeyong’s lower back like it’s no big deal. The sensation is the bare minimum, but it makes Taeyong blink quickly in succession, registering the foreign touches.

He especially likes to mouth at Taeyong’s neck, the junction right below his jaw, sometimes nibbles at the sensitive skin, and Taeyong can feel Johnny’s lips pull into a smile against his body before he moves to another spot. It makes Taeyong go boneless, but he knows that Johnny’s arms are always around him to catch him.

Taeyong likes to tell himself, repeat to himself, that Johnny does love him. The hundreds of times he has told Taeyong, every time with the same, sincere voice, makes Taeyong _feel_ something he doesn’t think his programming can properly handle. Sometimes, Taeyong thinks that Johnny looks at him like he hung the stars and strung up the moon to paint the perfect night sky.

But other times, those hundreds of _I love yous_ turn artificial, sour and spoiled. He can only say it so many times before it loses its original meaning, right?

Johnny shouldn’t have built such advanced AI into Taeyong, if he’s honest. Another week passes, and Taeyong counts that it has officially been two months since he was brought to life. One week since the lab incident.

It doesn’t take much to put two and two together.

The way Johnny pulled Taeyong into a hug one night in the dark kitchen. Only the hanging lights over the island counter were on, so Taeyong could barely see a sliver of Johnny’s face. His body was a warm comfort around Taeyong, hands latched on his back, before Taeyong’s senses turned off, one by one. 

He put in a new chip. Replaced his synthetic skin with the updated version, so that when Johnny presses his palm to it, it’ll feel more real, less like the thin silicon composite that originally made up Taeyong. And then he just pretended like none of that happened, like it was just some simple system update instead of a full surgery.

And still, Taeyong lets Johnny kiss him until the human is breathless.

Nothing feels quite right. Taeyong concludes that Johnny’s _I love you_ s are just customary three-word-phrases he always repeated to real Taeyong like a mantra, not that he had to be reminded. Real Taeyong could say them back, but TY-71 couldn’t bring himself to do so anymore. He couldn’t lie like that. What he feels for Johnny could never rival what Johnny feels for real Taeyong, and in turn, the android counterpart.

As Johnny brushes a hand over Taeyong’s stomach and his lips lead a featherlight trail along his body, Taeyong realizes what it is he has to do. 

Johnny sees him as a husband, a lover, a human who lost his life too soon, but he also sees a machine, an android he toiled for years over. He sees him as Taeyong half the time, and TY-71 the other. And like Jaehyun said, it’s not healthy, and might destroy Johnny sooner or later.

But as he is half machine, he is also half human, and the idea of losing this precious life that he has now scares him. 

The new programming cuts into his pondering. Instead, his computer is in tune to the way Johnny worships every part of him, the intake of senses overriding Taeyong’s train of thoughts.

Maybe he’s being delusional. Maybe he’s seeing too much into it, and Johnny saying “I love you” into his ear right now is the truth. 

If he wants to keep this up, this mindless charade of playing the prince as a pauper, Taeyong would have to prove to himself that he’s worth existing in Johnny’s world while carrying the face of the dead.

  
  


Everything Neo Technology produces has a special shutdown port hidden somewhere in the machine for the rare occasion that the AI acts up to the point that it’s dangerous to its owner. It’s written as a discretion on everything they sell. Thus, Taeyong knows that somewhere, either on or in his android body, that there’s a way to turn him off for good, once and for all. Old habits won’t be thrown out so easily, considering it’s Johnny. Methodological, genius engineer Johnny.

Taeyong stares at himself in the backlit mirror of the master bedroom. In all honesty, the design is a bit overboard, to have a full mirror nearly touching the high ceilings from where it starts at the counter considering how neither Johnny nor Taeyong cared too much for presentation to require such a luxurious mirror.

He strips himself of his shirt and pokes across his abdomen, his chest, squeezing his arms and trying his best to reach his back. He searches for that crack in his skin that could give away the door to the port. He searches and searches, but only finds the little details across his skin, little moles and spots that he doesn’t remember having. 

“Taeyong, come back. The bed's getting cold,” Johnny whines from the bed. His voice echoes from the distance, and from how large the bathroom is. 

“One minute, Johnny!” he calls back with a giggle, just to make sure Johnny wouldn’t grow too curious about Taeyong’s intentions. 

Nothing. There’s no blemish to him that could possibly give away the fact that under the faux skin is metal and wires. Nothing. 

Reluctantly, he pulls his oversized sleep shirt back on and walks back to the bedroom. Johnny is there with open arms, like a teddy bear ready for his nightly hug. 

Taeyong complies easily. He loves sinking into Johnny’s embrace and tucking himself into the perfect slot against his chest.

Taeyong thinks that he’s going to miss this feeling when he’s gone.

  
  


Easily, Taeyong gets a hold of Jaehyun Jung’s work number. While Johnny’s down working in his office, he runs up to the bedroom and settles outside on the porch with the landline in hand. He drums his fingers against his thigh as the phone rings, waiting for the other side to pick up.

“ _Hello?_ ” 

“Is this Jaehyun?”

A pause.

“ _Taeyong?_ ”

He smiles a little bitterly to himself. “Yup.”

There’s a shuffling of papers for a moment before Jaehyun settles again. “ _Hey. How are you?_ ”

“Good, good…” Taeyong hums. “You?”

“ _Besides all the work I still have to get through? Pretty decent myself._ ”

“Look… I have something to ask you.”

“ _Shoot_.” 

Taeyong can tell Jaehyun and Johnny are good friends, the way they speak playing off each other in a similar manner.

“Neo Tech always has a shut down system installed for safety precautions in their machines.” Taeyong tugs at the hem of his shirt nervously. “Where are they, usually?”

“ _Hmm… Depends on the machine. Most of them require a thin key of sorts that’s always provided. Usually near the battery source, there’s a small pocket to fit the key into, and then it opens up the entire machine to the panelling_.”

“The battery source…” That could be anywhere. Taeyong’s body functions like that of a normal body, in which he couldn’t _tell_ where exactly his computer and motherboard and fan are. The battery could be anywhere, and he doubts he could get his hands on a key without risking Johnny’s attention.

“ _Are you trying to fix that cleaner bot of his? He hasn’t gotten a new model in a while. Sometimes it breaks down in the middle of the night. He has tripped over it too many times to count._ ”

“I— No, it’s not that.” Taeyong says. “Actually, I think you might side with me on this.”

“ _Taeyong?_ ”

“I’m trying to find a way that’ll wipe my memories completely. Shut down my body so I can’t be rebuilt again.” He closes his eyes and lets the sun rays bathe him with warmth. “It’s not healthy for him to have this fake version of Taeyong in his life. It’s going to break him, eventually.”

“ _I… Yes, I agree, but are you sure?_ ” Jaehyun sounds genuinely concerned. “ _You wouldn’t be able to go back. You’ll just… cease to exist if you go through a factory shut down_.”

“I overheard you the other day. Johnny can’t just keep pretending that Taeyong is alive. This is the only way to help him over it.”

“ _But it also might be the reason he breaks completely._ ”

Taeyong’s voice grows hurried. He takes a moment in silence to try to calm himself. “When time comes, I’ll decide whether I have to carry through with it or not. I just need a way to the other option.”

Jaehyun sighs, heavily. “ _Johnny has kept most of the process of building you under wraps, so I can’t say I know exactly how he put you together. But from our blueprints before, he kept the most important systems in the torso area where it would be most well-protected_.”

Taeyong furrows his brows. He couldn’t find anything, though, that night. It was completely smooth, unblemished skin, no sign of entry to it.

“ _Often, it’s the one place that doesn’t get wired with receptors. A blind spot, if you will._ ”

Suddenly, that moment in the lab rushes back to him. He’s on the cold bed, and everything is freezing across his skin, except for one part.

“ _I really doubt I’m much help…_ ”

“No, no, no… I think I’ve figured it out.”

“ _Just don’t be brash. What you do will affect him much more than you think he will. After losing Taeyong, he lost a part of himself. A part of him I really looked up to, back in college. He can’t afford to lose any more of his humanity._ ”

Taeyong bites at the inside of his cheek. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Jaehyun.”

“ _You’re welcome. Take care of him, Yong._ ”

“I will.”

  
  


Sometimes, Taeyong likes to lie down and replay the videos that’s been crystallized in his memory chips. They are the only things untouched by Johnny, unaltered by his own way of perceiving their time together. Those videos Taeyong can interpret himself, watch how the players interact, how they react to each other's words and actions.

But in truth, he watches those videos to see the way Johnny looks at Taeyong. Something about the way his eyes glow bright and youthful, like he’s seventeen and falling in love for the first time again, it makes Taeyong feel something ache in his body. 

There’s a direct contrast between those videos and real life. Johnny says he loves Taeyong, over and over again, but one look at him, at his brown eyes and aging features, worsened by stress, tells Taeyong everything he needs to know. 

Taeyong walks down the stairs quietly, hand trailing along the railing. As he reaches the bottom, he sees the cleaner bot slowly make its way back to its charging port, carrying an empty wine glass.

That’s enough to indicate where Johnny is.

The stepping stones of the koi pond leads to a private seating area for two, below the foundation and right by the glass wall. It’s Johnny’s favorite place to sit in solitude.

Before Taeyong can hop off the ledge of the koi pond to the lowered floor of the small, square space, he stops, just around the rock fixture. 

He’s not built for confrontation. He’s an android with a coded purpose and nothing else.

But he’s also so close to human that maybe he's allowed to do as he wants. It’s what happens when technology imitates nature, after all.

Johnny places his new glass of red wine down on the table between two chairs when he hears Taeyong approaching. Rather than his normal work outfits of slacks and a button-down, he’s in loose board shorts and a threadbare tank, almost like he’s about to head out to the beach despite the gray weather. This time, it doesn't look like the clouds will be letting up so easily.

"A storm is coming," Johnny muses quietly as he looks out the window. "Sometimes you can see the lightning flash in the middle of the sea from here. It's so dark out there that when it strikes, it's like the world is being split in half."

Taeyong closes his eyes. He's not supposed to like storms, despise them, in fact, according to the memory chip. But that's not what guides him anymore. The contents of that chip are just the artificial creation of a man, and no matter how good of an engineer Johnny is, he can never recreate something even remotely close to the complexities of a human. He can try, but he will fail, repeatedly.

"Yong?"

"Did you think you could do it?" Taeyong asks with a shaky breath. "Did you believe through the entire five years that you could actually replace Taeyong?"

"I— Taeyong, are you feeling alright?"

"I'm just fine. But answer me, Johnny." Taeyong struggles to meet his worried eyes. "Did you ever doubt yourself? Or me? Did you ever think for just a moment that I wouldn't be able to live up to the Taeyong you had?"

He cocks his head to the side as he looks at Taeyong, then lets out a nervous laugh. "I think you're low on battery, Taeyong. Let's get you back to your room—”

"No, I'm perfectly okay. Fully charged, no problems at all." Taeyong throws his arms up and shakes his head. "But wouldn't think that, would you? Because I'm not acting like the Taeyong that you've imagined?"

"What are you talking about?" Johnny stands up, facing Taeyong. From afar, thunder crackles. Out of the corner of his eyes, Taeyong counts to ten before he spots the white zigzag against the ashy evening skies.

"I'm not him, Johnny. I never will be. For God's sake, I can't even breathe like a human." Taeyong bites at his lower lip to keep them from quivering. "You could have accepted that, though. You could have accepted this new Taeyong that you created, but you'll never be satisfied, will you?"

"No, no, you've got it all wrong." Johnny smiles a crooked smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You are every bit Taeyong was, with new parts from you, too. You brought him this new energy I could have never imagined."

Then he opens his arms, waiting for an embrace. Thunder cracks again, and this time, there are only five short counts before the accompanying lighting follows suit. 

In turn, Taeyong's voice grows louder to rival the thunderclaps. "Then why did you change me?

"I was running an update—”

"That's not the only thing you were doing," Taeyong accuses. He pushes Johnny's arms away from him. "You were creating new skin grafts. You added the scar—” Taeyong points at the malformation of skin right below his eye. "—You wanted me to be exactly like him. But every time you look at me, you can't see past the fact that I'm an android."

"Taeyong, what do you want me to say?" Johnny sighs with exasperation. He shakes his head, reaching a hand up to press at his temple, as if he had a headache. "I think we should just go to bed—” 

"I want one answer. Yes or no," Taeyong interrupts. "Will I ever be able to truly replace Taeyong?"

Johnny takes a few steps forward and places a hand on Taeyong's hip. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. "C'mon, let's go, you're exhausted."

He didn't think it would come down to this. He really hoped Johnny wouldn't try so hard to avoid the question, because that only further proves Taeyong's point. He just needs the one-word answer, direct and clear, so the doubt dissipates from his mind permanently.

So in their proximity, Taeyong grabs Johnny's shoulders and pulls him flush against his chest, hands adjusting to cup the back of Johnny's neck. He pushes himself to his toes and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his lips.

Taeyong tries to savor every moment, he really does, considering this would be the last time he gets to hold Johnny like this. Still, it's bittersweet as Taeyong kisses him, waiting for a response that never comes.

He pulls away, and it takes all of him to be able to step back and drop his arms from Johnny's warm body.

"Does that feel right? Is that what it would feel like with the real Taeyong?”

"That's not fair," Johnny whispers. There are tear stains carved into his cheeks.

"Please, answer me."

When Johnny blinks, more tears fall. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his jaw. Then, he slowly shakes his head.

"No. It doesn't"

Every instinct tells him to grab a hold of Johnny's hand and mend this, fix this jagged void that the lightning has cracked between them, but it's too deep, barely patched up from previous wounds before it's been ripped open again.

Instead, Taeyong wraps his arms around his torso to try and bring solace to himself, and says, "That's what I thought."

That night, Taeyong doesn't dare return to their shared bedroom. He goes to the guest room and sits on the edge of the bed, running his fingers over the smooth silk sheets again and again. He leaves his door ajar slightly, waiting for the quick blur of black that would signal Johnny's return to his room. Taeyong knows he's been having fitful periods of sleep the past few days and hasn't properly rested in a while.

But as he waits, and the evening fades into twilight, he never senses it. He slips outside to double-check the master bedroom, only to be met with emptiness.

He's not in the position to coax Johnny to bed, even for health's sake. Instead, he can only hope Johnny knows his body's limits, and Taeyong walks himself to the charging station and plugs the wires into the ports hidden all across his body, a sore reminder that he's incredibly far from human.

  
  


When Taeyong finds it in himself to leave the safe sanctuary of his room again, he feels that pang of familiarity heading down the stairs and towards the kitchen, but this time, without dragging a human teddy bear behind him who's too groggy to function. If he had known letting go would be this hard, he might have been more cautious to begin with. Johnny is too lovable for his own good.

Johnny looks haggard, completely drained as he stirs the spoon in his mug, metal clinking against the ceramic sides. At some point, he had changed to a well-worn shirt and joggers, much more comfortable in the bitter night. His skin looks sallow as he brings the mug to his lips and takes a sip of the hot drink.

He must have stayed up all night in the office again, programming as if his life depended on it. He has a piece of kinesiology tape encircling his wrist to ease the strain there.

When Taeyong slowly emerges from around the corner, Johnny freezes. He looks worse for wear, hair left in a mess atop his head, sunken circles under his eyes. He places his mug on the counter, and quickly bypasses the marble island to get to Taeyong.

Johnny pulls Taeyong into him, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist, the other around his bicep, hand braced on the back of his head, tucking Taeyong's chin into his chest. He lets out an unearthly gasp, and his forehead falls to the crook of Taeyong's neck. 

Johnny holds him so tight, that Taeyong is afraid to let go.

"I was wrong, Yong," Johnny manages to say between his sobs. "I was completely wrong. I love you. I love you, Taeyong. I love the Taeyong right in front of me."

His body tenses when Taeyong doesn't respond. Taeyong only lets his fingers twist into Johnny's hair, playing with the overgrown strands. 

In another life, he'd be the one to sit Johnny down in the bathroom, electric razor in hand, shaving away all the excess hair that he knew Johnny hated, despite how good he looked with the longer bangs. In another life, he'd be sitting across the kitchen island and nursing his own cup of tea to Johnny's coffee, reading over the news in the morning before they both head off to work. In another life, Johnny could have been his, but here, in this life, Johnny forever belongs to the late Taeyong. No one could ever rival Johnny's love for the soulmate he lost.

All Taeyong hears is Johnny lying because he just wants some semblance of normality, to live the rest of his days with a makeshift version of his husband even if it'll never be quite up to par. 

But Johnny can't keep playing at this game. Taeyong knows that every time their eyes meet, when Johnny looks at the mismatched blue and brown irises, he is reminded of loss, of his halcyon days he would never get back. Taeyong is convinced that it will only persist if he continues to stay by his creator’s side. Johnny's suffering won't end until he understands what it means to let go.

"Don't, Johnny," Taeyong mumbles into his chest. "No more lies."

"I _do_ love you." He lets out a broken gasp. "You promised me forever, once upon a time."

"I'm sorry I can't fulfill that," Taeyong says. "But you're never going to see me as anything other than an electronic doll, Johnny. I can't be the Taeyong you want. You can't beat nature with technology."

Johnny lifts his head from Taeyong's shoulder and looks at him with glossy eyes. He moves his hands to cup Taeyong's jaw, thumbs stroking over Taeyong's cheekbones. 

“You’re more than that. You’re… you’re still Taeyong.”

“I look like him, and I talk like him. But that’s where the similarities end.”

“I love you—”

“No, you don’t.”

Taeyong shoves Johnny off of him, pushing hard on his biceps to escape from his tight embrace. He reaches back without looking at the kitchen island, hand patting around to search for the wooden knife block they keep right by the sink.

He finds it easily. He sees the shift in Johnny’s gaze when he presses the unsheathed tip to his bellybutton.

“Taeyong, don’t you dare move.”

“It’s all in there. Everything, am I right, Johnny?” Taeyong fidgets his grip on the blade, and it presses deeper into his skin, enough to draw blood if he were human. All it does is cause a red blinking light in his vision, signaling the intense stimulus the pain receptors are receiving. 

“You don’t know what you’re messing with, Yong.” Johnny tries to reach forward to grab the knife, but Taeyong jerks back instinctively. He doesn’t expect to hit the cold edge of the countertop, and the blade digs deeper. His arms shake.

It’s funny, Taeyong thinks, that while making an immortal android, Johnny still gave Taeyong a human fatality. 

“That’s years and years of work. This goes beyond you,” Johnny says. “Just… let’s go down to the lab. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Your true colors are showing.” Taeyong lets out a noise that’s half cry, half laugh. He can’t even bring himself to understand what flurry of emotions his motherboard is trying to comprehend, comparing it to its giant dictionary that may not even have a perfect match. “All I am is another _piece_ in your giant portfolio of machines.”

“No, _God_ , stop twisting my words!”

Taeyong registers Johnny’s stance, voice, actions, all to be something akin to fear, maybe that same momentary fear he had when his car spun out of control that one fateful night. Fear that drained out of him as the life drained out of Taeyong, distinguishing as he went unconscious. He’s scared to lose Taeyong again.

“Please, Taeyong, don’t do this to me,” he pleads, the passion melting from his body, closer and closer to giving up. “I can’t let you go because of my faults again.”

Johnny tries to take another step closer, and Taeyong can’t find it in him to try and move away. Physically, he has a human weakness, but his Achilles heel is still the man in front of him, like Taeyong is to Johnny. Losing his true love once had slashed the tendon, but another, and he won’t be able to walk ever again.

Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t come any closer, I beg of you.”

Everything freezes for a moment, like the world holds its breath as it waits for Johnny’s next move. Taeyong stays just as still.

He opens one eye slowly to gauge Johnny’s reaction. 

Johnny looks so defeated, limbs dragging, head downcast, all that's left being the bones and meat of a man that has lost everything.

“What do you want me to do?” he says softly.

“Shut me down. I can’t see you suffer like this anymore.”

“This is all… because of me?”

“You deserve to move on. You can’t dwell on Taeyong forever.”

“Taeyong…” Johnny repeats the name with an eerily hollow voice. Then, he meets Taeyong’s gaze, and his eyes are bloodshot and puffy. “Okay. I’ll shut you down.”

Taeyong’s hands quiver, his grip on the knife loosening.

“He haunts me, every day, every night, for the last five years. It’s time to let him go.”

Taeyong lets the knife drop to the tile floor with a loud clatter, and lets Johnny envelope him in the signature warm hug, and lets himself take in Johnny’s familiar smell. He lets himself savor Johnny for another moment, because if that’s the last thing he senses, he thinks it’s the perfect way to leave this world.

  
  


“There’s no turning back.”

“I know.”

“Just give me the signal.”

Taeyong wishes he could take a deep breath to ease his fear. Is this how humans feel when met headfirst with death? 

He doesn’t want to enter the blank. He doesn’t want to feel his senses slowly shut down one at a time as the receptors turn off and deteriorate as he blinks away his consciousness. He doesn’t want to lose the memory of Johnny that he’s made for himself the past months.

“I’m ready,” he says anyway.

Johnny adjusts him so that Taeyong’s on the edge of the examination table, legs dangling off the side. He tugs Taeyong’s shirt off, then side-steps around the corner to have a better view of his back.

His fingers are rough as they trace down the knobs of Taeyong’s spine until they reach the divot where it meets his tailbone. There, Taeyong can’t feel, lacking sensors in that little square of skin. 

“You’re certain about this.”

“Absolutely.” 

Johnny sighs, and he splays his hand out on Taeyong’s back. Taeyong can barely feel the pads of his fingers that extend to the parts of his skin that’s actually built with receptors. Johnny lays a gentle kiss to Taeyong’s bare shoulder.

“I’ll miss you,” Taeyong whispers against his best judgement.

Johnny only hums. His hands work diligently at the control panel to TY-71’s components. Nothing hurts when he unscrews the hidden bolts.

TY-71 waits for everything to break down. He waits for his fan to slow, the motherboard to lose comprehension of the stimulus being sent to it. He waits for his vision to blur to nothing as the lense loses its purpose. 

Something clicks behind him, and TY-71’s mind goes blank. He can still see the wall of the labs, make out the popcorn drywall, the silver tools laid out across the desk in a scatter. He can still hear. 

Maybe being shut down is more pleasant than he prepared for.

Another click, and everything disappears all at once.

  
  


He wakes up in a warm bed, soft and homey, a place for him to return to for that feeling of comfort. He turns his head to look out the window, and sees fading orange bleeding into the azure of the ocean and the cobalt of the night sky. 

Then, he looks down at his hands.

In the quietest of whispers, he says, “I’m TY-71, prototype 2.”

  
  


He watches Johnny’s back as he cooks, shifting between the side counter and the stove as he transfers ingredients to the pan and then to another plate in a rehearsed manner. He taps on the glass surface of the controls to turn off the heat, then spins around to toss the used pan into the sink.

Johnny’s eyes light up with pleasant surprise to find Taeyong already there.

“How’re you feeling, Taeyong?” Johnny asks with a small smile. The corner of his eyes crinkle when he does, and the lines remain prominent.

Taeyong blinks a few times. He stares at Johnny, registering and comparing the image in front of him to the ones from his memories. The streaks of gray in his hair are more noticeable now, the smile lines on his cheek set on the surface of his skin. 

Then, Taeyong smiles back. He stands from the stool and makes his way around to reach Johnny, instinctively tucking his smaller stature under his arms.

He still smells the same, and Taeyong takes a long, drawn-out inhale of the scent of clean linen and pine, filling his mechanical lungs.

“Use your words, Yong,” Johnny says as he latches his chin on top of Taeyong’s head. Taeyong can feel the words reverberating through his chest.

“Good. Everything is good.”

Johnny rubs circles into Taeyong’s shoulders before he pulls away. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Taeyong grins. The sparkle in the way Johnny looks at him is still so bright.

He notices the two plates Johnny has been preparing all morning as he sets them in front of the two stools of the island. “What’s all this food for?”

Johnny picks up a sliced strawberry, and Taeyong opens his mouth for him to pop it in.

“Happy twentieth anniversary, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)


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